


Salt the Wound

by Wrongest_Under_Heaven



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-02 13:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20276767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wrongest_Under_Heaven/pseuds/Wrongest_Under_Heaven
Summary: The Straw Hat pirates stop for supplies shortly after the events of Thriller Bark. Sanji and Zoro end up alone together on the Thousand Sunny and wind up closer than either of them expected.





	Salt the Wound

Clear skies.

New shores.

Blue waves.

The Thousand Sunny gently nestled into port at an empty slip at the furthest end of the dock, its lion-faced prow beaming in the morning sun. Even this close to shore the water was choppy, occasional sprays of salty seawater splashing against the port and starboard sides. For a moment it appeared that it might float back out to sea or crash against the dock.

Then the Straw Hats sprung into action.

“Gum-Gum Hundred Knot Cyclone!” 

“Brash-Brass-Bolo-Bash Star!”

“Rumble Ball – Swift Elbow Bend!”

Voices rang out. Arms stretched. Slingshots twanged. Hoofs scampered. When the dust finally settled the outcome was all too certain – the Thousand Sunny was securely tied off.

Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper high-fived (er, perhaps high- _ two _ ed in the latter’s case) one another in triumph. 

“Safe and secure,” Usopp said. He stood slightly bow-legged in baggy blue pants with wraps at the ankles that made them flare outwards around his shins, his bare chest criss-crossed with straps for the various bags and pouches across his back. “We got the Sunny tied off in record time,” he continued, adding with a self-satisfied smirk and a rub of his chin, “and with  _ precise  _ marksmanship.” He nodded approvingly at the ropes he had fired moments before, the bolo-ends wrapped against the small metal pitons at the end of long ropes. The light glinted off his eyes and silver-star-patterned goggles in tandem.

“Yay! Lightning quick too,” Chopper beamed. He clapped his hooves, the additional elbows he’d given himself after using a rumble ball making his arms wobble in unsettling ways. The comically large tricorn hat he wore was bright blue with yellow trim at the fringes, a single white feather sticking out of the center to rest among his antlers. His blue and yellow shorts had zippers along the edges where they presumably attached to longer detachable pants legs.

Luffy grinned, all teeth and glee. “I’m a captain  _ and _ I’m good at tying knots too. But then I couldn’t be king of the pirates if I wasn’t the best at sailing,” he bragged, crossing his arms over his red vest that read GUM GUM BEACH BUM across the back in hand-written lettering. Across his wrists were armbands of different colors with little symbols on them, miniature versions of the other Straw Hat crewmember’s faces drawn on in smeared marker. His baggy blue denim shorts were splattered with dried paint drops from applying the lettering to the vest himself.

Or, attempting to cross his arms, as he was tangled in enormous lengths of rope.

“Luffy, you tied yourself up too!” Usopp shouted. “Don’t brag about that!”

Steam shot out Luffy’s ears and he shouted back, “You’re just jealous I tied up twice as much stuff as you did: me  _ and _ the ship!”

“That’s not how it works! How much you tie up doesn’t matter!”

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I tied up more than you!”

“You look like a giant ball of noodles!”

“You look like a ball of  _ jerk _ who can’t tie knots!”

They continued arguing while Chopper put his hands over his stomach. “Uhhhh, noodles… I’m so hungry,” the little reindeer remarked. His eyes watered and his stomach gurgled noisily.

Usopp and Luffy sank at the shoulders, their enthusiasm for arguing sapped by a common realization. “Me too,” they said in unison, clutching their stomachs. The trio began to mumble, gripe, and whine at various pitches about how hungry they were.

“You three… are such children,” Robin remarked from the deck, watching them carry on. The wind ruffled the tall collar of her burnt orange button up shirt. Large-link gold chain bracelets sang out ~ _ ringa-ting-ting~  _ like wind chimes as they hung loosely on her wrists. A similarly styled chain belt hung around her waist over a long flowing black skirt that somehow shone like mother of pearl when the light caught it.

“Hey, cut ‘em some slack Robin,” Franky added, crossing his massive arms over his bare chest. He wore a jacket that was a garish sunburst yellow and bore a print pattern showing tiny cartoonish bumblebees fluttering about – some wearing shades, some holding tiny drinks, others waving tennis rackets. His black speedo bore yellow letters that read CASUAL on the front and FRIDAY across the back – or rather, FRI across one cheek and DAY across the other. “They’ve been cooped up for weeks. Kids’ll act out a bit, they’re just excited.”

Robin smiled warmly and replied, “I know.”

Zoro emerged from below decks, scratching his messy green hair. He wore a simple blue tank top with thick horizontal white stripes and white shorts with a single blue stripe running vertically along either flank. His arms were sweaty – whether that was from working out or a general Zoro-level-attention-to-hygiene it was unclear – and a folded towel hung around his neck in a u-shape. “We make it?” he asked, squinting against the sudden light.

“Gee moss-for-brains, how about open your eyes and look for a second before you ask,” Sanji snapped from the steps nearby, taking a long drag from his cigarette. He exhaled a cloud of smoke. As it dissipated Zoro could see the cook was in long red pants with a strong pleat in the front. His shirt – normally a tidy affair – was unbuttoned and open to reveal the close-fitting tank top beneath. His long sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and an unwrapped red tie with white polka dots hung around his neck.

The swordsman made a sour face.

Sanji curled an eyebrow and looked away before taking another long drag.

Brook sat near the prow of the boat on an empty barrel. His large afro sported a rainbow-colored pick where each tooth ended in a different hue. The handle of the pick was a small smiling cartoon whale, its blowhole spouting a tiny rainbow to boot. His loose-fitting v-neck pink shirt and black-and-white striped pants flapped in the wind as he tuned his violin. “Yo ho ho ho…  _ Shall I save, Hopes and more..”  _ he sang quietly as he adjusted the violin just so. “Hm hm hm,  _ Hopes and more, In your heart ere I leave?”  _ he sang as he adjusted it again, tapping his polished black shoes to the melancholy tempo in his mind.

Across a railing near the helm sat Nami, a large map held between her hands. Its edges danced in the breeze – tiny corners waving at the navigator - and the sun shone on her with the warmth of potential and promise. “Zouta Island…” she said confidently. She had a short-sleeved purple polo shirt, the two white buttons catching the sun just right. Across the back of her shirt was a stylized rendition of a sea-blue wave crashing, its crest foamy white. Nami wore white capris with a single blue charm hanging off the end of the left leg. Purple cloth-textured flats covered her feet which dangled off the railing, swinging back and forth in quiet joy.

She looked up from the map and used one finger to pull her orange hair behind her ear, looking across the island. The port area was somewhat small for the size of the island as it quickly gave way to the hungry urban area beyond. Oblong multi-story structures with outward curving walls rose in the distance, like the fingers of giant hands reaching up from beneath the earth. 

“Yep, this is the place,” she said to herself, rapping her knuckles on the map where the words ZOUTA ISLAND were printed in her own careful writing. The navigator leapt down to the deck and walked over to the center area, rolling up the map to put back into its case. “Is everyone ready?” she called out in a clear strong voice.

“Yep!” Luffy shouted as swung back onto the ship, his rubbery arms hanging from the mast. Usopp and Chopper clambered back over the Sunny’s edge with substantially less grace. “I’m ready to eat, then pick up some snacks.”

“Ready to go,” Franky agreed as he hoisted an enormous pack and slung it around his shoulders. Three empty barrels were now strapped across his back with XXX-SODA-XXX in blocky font. “We’ll get enough cola to last us to the Red Line.” 

Usopp tossed a small pack towards the cyborg saying, “Franky, don’t forget the pouch I made you,” he said, still out of breath from the climb.

Franky caught it and smiled, “SUPER! Thanks Usopp.” He took the custom-made pouch and buckled it around his waist – it was a fanny pack. “I’ll be able to carry plenty of extra soda bottles with this baby.” He patted it twice, leaving Usopp grinning with pride. A moment later the cyborg scratched the side of his nose and looked down at the pack, his speedo, bare legs and chest and quietly added, “I worry I’m overdressed though. I don’t want people thinking I’m going to a funeral or something…”

Robin smirked. “I’ll check in with the Zouta Island archeological society and see if their expertise matches their reputation,” she said in a tone that said she already knew the answer. Her right arm was bent at the elbow with forearm pointed upwards. Where her elbow was bent she had blossomed an entire arcing array of additional forearms – the limbs splayed out like the feathers of a peacock – and in each of her palms she held a different pair of sunglasses. She was considering her options before she settled on a pair of shades with a tiger-sreipe pattern on the frames, dismissing the other arms and placing them on her face. “Even if that is a bust then the Zouta Medical Dispensary is not far away. Chopper and I can make sure to stock up on medical supplies before we get back.”

Sanji grumbled as he scratched his temple. He asked through gritted teeth, “Can you pick me up a few packs of Death Light while you’re out?” He pulled a wadded up pack of cigarettes from his pocket and added, “These cheapo ones are worthless crap.” 

The packaging on the bargain-bin cigarettes read LUCKY DOLPHIN BRAND CIG-ALIKES and showed a smiling dolphin in a sailor hat with a tiny lollipop in its beak. The tag-line across the bottom was contained in a word balloon stretching from the dolphin’s mouth that read  _ The cheapest eeeeeeee-cigarettes around!  _ in comic sans.

“No wonder you’re in such a foul mood…” offered Zoro. _ _

Chopper stood nearby with an adorably tiny paper pad and a big red crayon. He spoke deliberately as he wrote saying, “Deer... Life... brand… cigars… got it!” He beamed. Sanji scowled and went to say something.

Robin’s musical  _ Hm hm hm hm  _ laugh cut him off as she patted Chopper on his tricorn hat. “Don’t worry Sanji, we’ll remember,” she assured him. The tone in her voice cooled his temper.

“Good. After we eat lunch then Usopp, Luffy, and I will pick up new secure storage containers,” Nami said. Her eyes narrowed, shifting from side to side as she continued, “We need to make sure the berries stay safe below decks. Who knows what we’ll run into out there.”

“I don’t mind accompanying Franky,” Brook chimed in, “though that would leave Zoro and Sanji here alone. A skeleton crew. Yo ho ho! It’s a witty skeleton joke you see.”

Groans were heard. Eyes were rolled. 

“Are you both staying behind?” Nami asked of the cook and the swordsman.

“Sadly, yes my dear Nami-swan,” Sanji replied. He flew across the deck, power-sliding on one knee towards her. “I must remain here and prepare the tookoo tookoo fruits we purchased from those travelling merchants before they go bad. Though we will be apart,” he began to say, eyes shimmering with the falling stars of a fated lover, “I will feel you in each beat of my heart, in each tick of the clock, in each breath that I take, in each p-“ His hands reached up to hold hers as he chattered, his lips pursed as if to lay a kiss upon it.

She pulled away and simply said, “Fine.” Then turned to Zoro. 

Her curt reply left Sanji deflated, a shadow crossed his expression.

“Zoro?” Nami asked.

“Hmph,” Zoro grunted. A casual shrug of his shoulders chased his non-committal utterance.

“It’s settled then. We’re off!” Nami announced as the various groups turned to depart.

Usopp and Luffy were already chattering excitedly as they jumped down to the dock. Franky leaped down as well, a dull ~ _ WHUMPF~  _ sounded as his bulk hit the creaky boards. Nami and Chopper descended the ramp with eager smiles. Brook tapped out a tune with his cane and hummed to himself as he followed along.

Robin was the last to leave, pausing at the ramp to look back. She saw the sulking cook and grumpy swordsman. They turned to look at one another, grimaced, and both walked back below decks in a huff. 

She smiled. Change was in the wind.

\----------

_ ~Sizzzz crackle POP sizzzzzzz~ _

“Ah, aha-hmmmm -  _ per _ fect,” Sanji cooed. 

The kitchen was alive with activity. The Straw Hat’s resident cook had a veritable feast in the works. Pots bubbled. Pans sizzled. Fires blazed. It was the sound of care. The symphony of delight. Sanji was in his element.

“Careful, careful, not too thin not too wide,” he said to himself. Almost in mockery of his own words his knife danced dangerously atop the cutting board. ~ _ Rocka-tocka-rocka-tocka~  _ went the sharpened edge across four tookoo tookoo fruits at once, juicy yellow-green wedges falling in the blade’s wake. He tossed the knife over his head, scooping the entire batch of freshly cut slices and tossing them into the bubbling pots with half a heartbeat to spare before catching the knife in mid-air. 

With his free hand he grabbed a ladle, stirring the pots until their bubbling tops cooled to a low simmer. Setting the ladle aside he grabbed a spoon and brought it to his lips. He blew twice to cool it ~ _ fwoo fwoo~  _ before taking a taste. Sanji’s eyebrows waggled as his finely-honed taste buds processed the flavor.

“Close… needs more seasoning and a few more hours,” he murmured. He spun around to the pans and gave them vigorous shakes, flipping a strange purple square twice end over end. Sanji rounded the next bend, grabbing an armful of spices. He paused before heading back to the pots to lean against the counter where he’d erected a pair of tongs to hold his cigarette over an ash tray. He took a quick puff and spun back to the soup area, sprinkling, pinching, and dashing to and fro.

Zoro walked in. “Why are yo-“

“SHUT THE DOOR!”

Zoro’s face blanched in shock. The swordsman slammed the door behind himself with a resounding ~ _ BANG~.  _ “Yeesh, fine…” he murmured, scratching his head.

“I don’t want flies getting in, they can’t interrupt my work,” Sanji said without looking up. 

“Oh.”

A pause hung in the air. ~ _ Szzzzzzzz~ _

“Why do you-“

“Shh!”

Sanji carefully measured and released a pinch of garlic.

Zoro’s eyes narrowed.

“...aaaaand  _ there _ . Now, what did you want?”

Zoro started again, “Why do you bother cooking like this?”

“What do you mean?”

“All the preparation, all the specific measurements,” Zoro walked over and crossed his arms at the threshold of the kitchen area. ~ _ Szzzzzzzz~ _

Sanji did not reply at first. He moved in silence, continuing on as though Zoro had never asked that question. Zoro watched him dance nimbly from space to space, watched the elegant movements of his hands as he chopped up food – one swordsman admiring the work of another. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple and across the side of his neck. The warrior told himself it was just due to the ambient heat from the multiple open flames Sanji was working with.

_ Why bother? He’s doing all this… and none of them will even mention it.  _ A pang in his chest made him… uncomfortable. He gritted his teeth and ran from it. Said something snarky. Said something stupid.

“Why do you bother doing all this work when those idiots will chomp it down so fast they won’t even taste it?” Zoro asked. His tone made it sound like he was mad  _ at  _ Sanji. Something in his gut told him he was mad  _ for  _ Sanji.

The cook slammed a pan on the stove top.

It echoed for a hundred years. Silence followed for a thousand more.

“Why do I bother?” Sanji asked, his tone darker than a winter midnight. 

Another silence. Zoro didn’t budge but his hands clenched, bracing for impact.

Sanji said without turning, “Why do you bother training?”

Zoro shook his head, scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. He didn’t know how to answer that. “That’s a stupid question,” he replied defensively.

“Exactly.”  _ ~crackle crackle~ _

The cook resumed his duties without missing a step, as if he hadn’t been interrupted at all. Zoro was rooted in place, unsure how to respond.  _ Stupid. You hurt his… agh, stupid. _

The swordsman swallowed his pride. An audible gulp. Then he said, “Hey I just… what I meant to… the others don’t appreciate it, is all. You do all that work at they don’t see it.”

Sanji replied in a simmering tone, “Just because someone doesn’t notice the effort, doesn’t mean it’s not worth doing.” He shot a glance back at Zoro over his shoulder, one eye covered by his blonde hair, the other catching the flash fire of a nearby pan in the depth of his pupil.

_ ~POP~ _

Zoro felt his pulse quicken and he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from making a face. Another moment passed. He refused to let Sanji win the stare-down. After an eternity the cook wordlessly turned back to his preparations and Zoro turned his back on the kitchen.

The green-haired warrior walked to the door and placed a palm against it but paused before he pushed it open. Hesitation. Was it because he had to have the last word, or because he didn’t want to leave? He scoffed and told himself it was the former.

“Noble sentiments, Sanji… noble sentiments are simply that,” he said.

“Sentiments?” Sanji replied.

_ Noble _ , Zoro thought.

He left, taking care to close the door swiftly behind him.

\----------

_ Fine. _

Her word echoed in Sanji’s mind. A single blow that he couldn’t shake the hurt of. A lone gunshot that hit like a barrage. 

_ Fine.  _ That was all she had said. Dismissed again out of hand like... what, like some annoying brat? Sanji took a long drag from his cigarette and held the smoke in. Kept the fire in his chest. His mouth twitched and he exhaled twin fonts of moody smoke from his nostrils. He told himself that he burned hot because there was passion in his heart, a fire for Nami that was meant to be.

Right now it felt like brimstone.

The blonde-haired cook leaned his elbow against the railing and watched the waves crash against the Thousand Sunny’s side. Morning was giving way to midday and they’d been crashing for hours. 

_ Futile _ , he thought idly. Crashing against the ship like that when it wouldn’t make a difference. No matter how hard or how often they smashed against the side those waves would never so much as dent the hull.

_ Why do you bother? _

That moss-head’s words rang in his mind.  _ Zoro.  _ It made him angry. Because he was… wrong?

Was he wrong?

Sanji didn’t like where his mind was going.  _ If that numbskull could see the truth of it and I was slower to catch on than him…  _ Sanji thought.

He needed another cigarette.

He fired up another Lucky Dolphin and rubbed his temples.  _ Nami-swan, you really don’t… not even in the slightest…  _ he thought.

_ ~BOOM~  _

The ship rocked from a deep resonating sound below decks. Sanji rushed over to the porthole that overlooked the kitchen – nothing out of place. The pots bubbled on a low heat. The other foodstuffs sat wrapped and ready.

_ Hm _ .

He set off deeper into the ship in search of the sound’s origin. He took a long puff of his cigarette. New flame. New ash. He was at ease in the smoke.

_ ~BOOM~  _

There it was again. Deeper this time, far below decks. Where the light couldn’t see. Where the weight bore down and the pressure kept everything rooted.

He raced down the steps, his heart racing in tandem. His arm reached for the door of the last room he had yet to check. His pulse quickened. His leg burned - whoever he was about to run into was in for a mess of trou-

_ Oh. _

Sanji had opened the door the tiniest of cracks, barely enough to let the light in. There was Zoro. Shirtless, arms spread and pointing downwards in a v-shape. Heat washed over Sanji from within the hidden realm he’d opened. A portal to a secret place.

Long rivers of sweat ran down Zoro’s arms and shoulders, tracing his veins in long loping patterns before they pooled at the base of his hands. Thick drops leapt from his clenched fists to the floor below.  _ ~Drip drip drop drip~  _ they sounded in the near-darkness.

Zoro’s bare back was to the door, his emerald green hair clashing with beet-red flesh from the intensity of his workout. Tight green pants with black tiger-stripe patterns covered his legs, while his bare feet were rooted in place.

Sanji could see where the  _ boom _ s had been coming from.

In each hand Zoro held a katana hilt, but rather than blades they extended out into weight bars with enormous plates at the end. Sanji couldn’t see the weight totals on the plates but there were four on the end of each weapon and they were as large as the tabletops on the Baratie’s upper deck cafe. 

There was no sound save Zoro’s breathing - Sanji didn’t realize it consciously but he was holding his breath. Watching. Waiting for Zoro to make his move.

He did.

“Nyyy-ARGH!” Zoro shouted. There was no pretense of form or finely honed kata. The swordsman was not testing a  _ technique _ , he was testing  _ himself _ . He sprung forward and his arms whirled the absurd sword-bell weights in a hurricane motion, the air itself groaning against the sheer force of the movements. Another gust of hot air blasted through the tiny crack in the door, reminding Sanji to blink.

The chef tracked Zoro’s torso in the whirlwind.  _ Idiot. That’s too much weight. You’re pushing yourself too far.  _ He saw the bulging veins across the swordsman’s chest and arms, knew the fool would have been struggling even if what had happened at Thriller Bark…

_ Kuma. _

The thought of what Zoro had done echoed in the pit of Sanji’s stomach. When he saw it, he told himself it was admiration, or maybe acknowledgment of the pain. Maybe it was something else. The fire of a fellow warrior, a fellow crewmate.

Then why did it feel like an  _ ache _ -

_ ~BOOM~ _

Zoro’s weighted swords slammed to the floor, rocking the boat for a third time. The entire ship reverberated. Shaken from the force. His warrior’s intuition pinged and he suddenly felt as though another person was present. Watching him. He glanced at the door.

Closed. No one there.

_ Hm _ . 

\----------

Sunrise brought welcome routine.

Sanji was cooking up the remainder of the tookoo tookoo fruits on a skillet, checking the last of the big batch soup containers to make sure it was done.

“You’re up early,” Zoro said, entering the kitchen via a side entrance. He closed the door quickly.

“Sorry moss-head, couldn’t have you sneaking in here for a bite,” he retorted with a grin. “Plus I wasn’t able to sleep, decided to get an early start.”

Zoro nodded. “Worried about Nami?”

Sanji gulped. All he offered was a weird head-tilt motion that didn’t mean anything but he hoped would throw Zoro off the trail. Sanji couldn’t tell who he was more mad at - Zoro for not seeing it, himself for not seeing it sooner. No, definitely himself.  _ This dolt… of all the fools to fall for… _

“Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon. Robin said they might be gone as long as three days hunting down all those leads,” Zoro continued. He took a step towards Sanji and said, “You kno-”

He froze.

“What?” Sanji asked.

Zoro kicked a utensil holder in the air then leapt straight at him.

“What are you-?!”

Kitchen implements of various sharpness cartwheeled in mid-air. Sanji saw his life flashing before his eyes.  _ WHAT IS HE--?! _

The green-haired swordsman grabbed three of the utensils from their flight - a wooden spoon in one hand, a ladle in the other, and a spatula in his teeth.

“ _ Nimble Dragonfly Splitting Demon Cut!!!”  _ Three tiny smacks rang out

_ ~thwack~ _

_ ~tack~ _

_ ~pwap~ _

Zoro landed in a crouching position at Sanji’s feet, and moments later a trio of slain flies landed beside him. 

Sanji blinked a dozen times in succession and gasped, “What did you just do?”

“They were going to land in your soup,” Zoro said matter of factly. He stood and sheathed the cooking implements back in the holder. “I didn’t want them to ruin your cooking. I know you worked hard on all this.” There was no pause before the final phrase but it slipped out before Zoro could register his own words as he said, “I noticed.”

Sanji felt that fire rise near his collar.

Zoro blushed at the unbidden admission.

The cook swallowed. The swordsman tensed.

“Y-you dummy, you can’t just put those back,” Sanji began. Whatever cool he usually had tumbled away, ash off a cigarette. “They’re dirty now, they have to,” his jaw waggled, had he forgotten how to talk? “They have to be cleaned.” The cook tried to reach past the swordsman to grab the fly-killer tools and put them in the sink. He misjudged where his feet were.

For the first time in his life, Sanji stumbled.

His chest pressed against Zoro’s.

Zoro caught him.

A  _ ~BOOM~  _ reverberated between the two of them. Just the two of them. A pair of fools in a ship full of them.

Both of them froze. It was one thing to strike when your life was on the line, to risk bone and blood for honor.

It was another when your heart was on the line. To risk a feeling, when cuts might never heal and breaks might never mend.

Zoro’s firm grip clutched the back of Sanji’s arms. He didn’t blink.

Sanji made a choice. He put his foot down…

...and pushed until he rose up. Sanji and Zoro were seeing eye to eye, perhaps for the first time.

Chivalry had its say. “Can I kiss…?” Sanji started to ask.

Martial prowess didn’t hesitate. Zoro kissed him.

Their embrace was all clash, sparks and mixed motions, the awkward fumbling of two people whose hearts made the decision before their heads. Clumsy. Stumbling.

Real.

Zoro and Sanji, two men who fought to hold the crew together through thick and thin, found that they only wanted to hold one another. In that little kitchen below deck, a new course was set.

Clear skies.

New shores.

Blue waves.

They heard footsteps on the deck above, footfalls with weight and tempo. Sanji and Zoro pulled apart, their faces masks of surprise, their chests heaving from trying to contain their racing hearts.

“Better g-” Zoro began, nodding his head towards the door. “Go uh-”

“Yeah, no yeah. Go moss-head, go.”

“Yeah.”

Zoro ran out the door.

Sanji placed his hands on the countertop. One of the pots had bubbled over. The cook smiled.

\----------

“Yo ho ho, hello Zoro!” Brook exclaimed as he walked across the deck. 

The green-haired swordsman appeared out of breath, his cheeks flush with color. “Oh, it’s you Brook.”

“In the flesh! Yo ho ho ho!”

Zoro grunted. 

“I decided to come back a little early,” Brook said as if Zoro had asked.

“Hm.”

“I think they still have some more shopping to do, but I think I’ve seen enough of Zouta Island. Lovely place! There’s a little restaurant by the water. They do live music there you know. I thought it would be nice to bring Laboon there. He could swim up alongside while I play a gig - dinner and a show!” The skeleton chuckled, “I think I’d do pretty  _ whale _ .”

Zoro’s eye twitched as he nodded.

Brook took up a spot on a nearby barrel and produced his violin. “Ah well, one day at least,” he began, placing the instrument to his chin. “If you or the cook would like to go look around Zouta, I don’t mind staying here and watching the Sunny.”

Zoro couldn’t hide the one eyebrow that rose, but he maintained his facade of cool composure otherwise. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to leave. Over his shoulder he sent back, “Thanks Brook, I might do that.” 

Brook waved and began to strike up a tune. “Hm hm hm,” he started as he found the pitch, “ _ I a knave, unadorned…” _

Zoro took the first step in a measured pace. The second. The third. The fourth. His instincts told him he was out of Brook’s line of sight.

He jumped down the remaining steps. His legs carried him swiftly back to the kitchen area, back to Sanji. He saw the cook was just finishing up the last of the food and hoisting large containers into the cupboards. The low  _ ~rm-rm-rm-rm~  _ of the refrigeration units Franky had installed were keeping the more delicate meals well-preserved.

Zoro spoke first. “Brook’s back, he said he’s done in town and won’t be going back,” he stated.

Sanji wiped off his hands and closed the gap between them. He was all cool again, swagger in his steps.

He walked until he was parallel with Zoro and paused. He had a place in mind, somewhere he had wanted to take Nam- no, no that was before. Where he wanted to take Zoro.

“Dinner. Tonight. In town.”

Zoro gulped. He hadn’t been on this side of Sanji’s charm before. In the crosshairs, guard down.

“Sure.”

Sanji smiled, one eyebrow curling. “ _ La Reine _ ,” he said simply, the name of the restaurant rolling off his tongue smoothly.

“La R-ea-ne,” Zoro stumbled.

Sanji kept walking and left the kitchen.

Zoro was rooted in place. Heartbeats turned to minutes. Zoro smiled and left the kitchen in the opposite direction.

\----------

They both took their time getting ready. 

Sanji wore a collared short-sleeve shirt, black as a starless sky with the collar and one sleeve marked out in gray. Across the left breast an embroidered flame-like design, a descending meteor trimmed in white stitching. Shorts and loafers rounded it out. He wouldn’t normally be so… leggy on a first date but he expected it to be warm tonight. 

Or hoped it would.

Zoro showered. Yes, even though he  _ just  _ had three days ago.

_ Yes  _ he used soap. For once. 

He wasn’t sure what kind was supposed to work best but he snuck into the part of the storeroom he had only heard about - the place where the crew kept hygiene supplies - and grabbed the container with the most elegant looking font on the label. It sure smelled frilly.

He hoped Sanji would like it.

The shower took longer than Zoro had planned - in his defense he had taken so few in his life it was a skill he was still honing - and that meant Sanji left first. While Zoro was still bathing, the cook strode across the deck into the night air. He took in a deep breath of it. Potential. Raw, but romance was a lot like cooking - you needed heat and time.

“Going out?” Brook asked.

Sanji laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets. “Yeah,” he replied, “they haven’t gotten back with my smokes yet. Figured I’d pick them up myself, maybe grab a bite.”

“Hm.”

“Play me out?” Sanji said half-jokingly.

“Any time,” Brook replied with a tilt of his afro. The skeleton began to play a jaunty tune as the cook turned to leave.

A single leap took Sanji from the deck to the docks and he was on his way to  _ La Reine _ . He couldn’t hide the slight bounce in his step.

\----------

Zoro rankled beneath the snug fit of his shirt. He had bought it what felt like a lifetime ago. He’d been bulking up lately and what had  _ been  _ a tight fit before was currently one deep breath away from a button-popping incident. But everything else he had fell under the category of ‘gym clothes,’ so he made do. It was long-sleeve and lime green with black trim hugging his trapezoids and running along the outside of his arms to flared sleeves. Two angled black lines ran across the front, one starting just above his ribs on his right side and the other immediately below his right armpit, with both ending below his left armpit. It gave the shirt a bit of asymmetry and the tailor had described it as ‘All the rage.’ Zoro remembered buying it because it looked like sword slashes and he thought that ‘looked cool.’

He flinched. He waggled his sleeves.

_ Sanji is going to think I’m a dork. _

Waves crashed against the hull of the ship. Zoro took in a slow breath and let it out just the same. 

He headed out of his room and into the city.

\----------

At  _ La Reine  _ Sanji waited.

“Another refill on your drink, monsieur?” the waiter asked.

The wax on the candles had pooled at the base, the wick and flame all but extinguished. Sanji had been there for hours, sitting alone at a table for two. His wine glass had been emptied more than once, his plate never seeing hide nor hair of food. His chin rested in his upturned palm, elbow on the table.

“No, thank you,” Sanji said. “Just the bill for the wine.”

_ He never came. He never even showed.  _

Sanji’s heart floated down a river of wine and self-pity, his inner voice a tiny gondolier on this cold lonely night.

_ Never. Even. Came. _

He  _ tsk _ ed. The waiter returned with the check.

_ Idiot _ , he snarled as he paid with a handsome tip.  _ Moss-head never took me seriously to begin with. _

Nami’s voice cut into his mind’s eye once again - the way she had said  _ Fine  _ and pulled away - and his lip curled into a frown.

Zoro was no different, it seemed. Just another crewmember who toyed with him. Another person who kept him swaying on the end of a long, long strand. That moss-head was so stupid, so lost, he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

_ I’ll stick to cooking I think,  _ he thought to himself. He stood to leave, walking the quiet streets of Zouta alone. 

_ In the kitchen the work is hard, but better to be never noticed… _

Clear skies tonight. The stars shone brightly, all bunched together. With each other.

_ ...than ignored.  _ The cook returned to the Sunny alone.

\----------

At  _ La Renne  _ Zoro waited.

“I thought he would have gotten here before me,” the swordsman said to himself. He could have sworn he heard Sanji leave first. 

_ Maybe he had as much trouble finding this place as I did _ , he wondered.

“Sir would you like to order? You’ve been here so long and you’ve not even touched your bread,” the waitress asked.

Zoro eyed the carb-heavy bowl with disdain.

“I… no I think I’m going to go,” Zoro said. 

_ Jerk _ , Zoro thought. He gritted his teeth as he stood to leave.  _ No different than Tashigi, always something more important they could be doing instead of dealing with me.  _

_ If I’m not cutting something in half  _ he thought bitterly,  _ then I’m not worth their time. _

The swordsman looked out across the water. New shores, but the same empty sea.

He returned to the Sunny with his head hung low.

\----------

“Finally, back together again!” Luffy cheered.

It was another morning, another fresh day of possibilities. They all hoped to get back out to sea soon. The Red Line waited.

Franky was brushing his hands off as he announced, “That’s the last of the supplies, we’re SUPER!”

Robin and Chopper were carefully placing their new books on the shelves below decks while Usopp slept off his swollen stomach in his room. Brook was putting the final tuning to his violin.

Nami looked at Sanji nearby. “Were you sitting on those steps the whole time we were gone, or did you manage to get the cooking done?” she asked with a perked brow.

“Yeah, I got it done,” he said. He took a long drag of the Death Light cigarette and felt the familiar comfort in his chest. The cook chanced a glance at Zoro - the moss-head was facing Luffy as their captain talked animatedly about the food he’d eaten.

Sanji scoffed and turned to face the sea. The waves kept crashing.

“There, that’s the last of the ties undone - we’re ready to set sail captain,” Franky boomed, his hand holding a bundle of rope.

“All right! Nami, chart us a course,” Luffy said eagerly.

“On it,” Nami replied. She turned to go but lingered for a second near Sanji. He seemed… different. She kept going, one foot in front of the other.

As the cook stared out to sea, the swordsman chanced a glance.  _ Too cool to even acknowledge me,  _ he fumed. Zoro crossed his arms and walked back below decks.  _ More motivation for working out, that’s all,  _ he lied to himself. The waves kept crashing.

\----------

The night before, Zoro had been heading to  _ La Reine  _ but, as always, he was lost.

“This is important,” he had said to himself, nervous that Sanji would think he stood him up. “Better ask someone…”

The swordsman had found an elderly man sweeping outside his shop.

“Hey old-timer, know where,” he had paused and made sure to form the word just right, “ _ La Raene  _ is?”

The older gentleman perked up and craned his ear. “Oh you want  _ La Renne _ ? Right down that way,” he had replied, pointing Zoro the correct direction for  _ La Renne _ .

“Thanks!” Zoro had thanked him before he ran off in the wrong direction, away from  _ La Reine  _ \- away from Sanji.

\----------

Thousand Sunny was back out to sea. New adventure laid ahead.

New hurts laid below.

Nami and Franky stood calmly at the helm. Brook shocked them both when he piped up with a loud, “A-ha! That’s it, I found the old tune.”

“Huh?” the other two asked in unison. 

“Here,” Brook said as he settled in to play. “Listen.”

A sad tune - new to their ears, old to the world - began to play.

_ Crests and waves _

_ Ships and shores _

_ Horizon there I see, _

_ Shall I save _

_ Hopes and more _

_ In your heart ere I leave? _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ And I brave _

_ What’s in store _

_ For your sake I believe, _

_ That my grave _

_ I implore _

_ Remembered but not grieved, _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ I a knave _

_ Unadorned _

_ With jewels or satin sleeves, _

_ But I pray _

_ At my core _

_ A gem lies there for thee _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

_ Tide that guides, son of salt, never mo-ore return _

Sanji and Zoro, both busy below decks, couldn’t hear it.

Cloudy skies.

Missed shores.

Blue waves. Deep, cold, blue waves.


End file.
